


a soft epilogue

by blanxkey



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, M/M, a bit christmassy?, blame ig user srodulv for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanxkey/pseuds/blanxkey
Summary: their days, for the most part, are filled with light.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	a soft epilogue

_homes are wrecked by those who create them_ , they say. eliott doesn’t understand, it’s too much sometimes. he falls in love and that’s that, no questions asked _. it’s too early_ , they say, _too soon, too fast_. but lucas loves him, anyway. his mind is messy, sometimes; the days are heavy, sometimes easy, sometimes flawed, but they’re home. finally home. their days, for the most part, are filled with light. lucas cooks for them, eliott helps, mostly he draws. there’s a collection of his drawings sitting proudly on their desk, over the mantel, taped to the fridge, to the living room wall. eliott brings in the piano from his old place and asks lucas to play, and each note is soft-edged and melodic, soothing. mornings come and go, noon falls, and the nights are diamond-like and beautiful. sometimes they forget to take it day by day, minute by minute, but it’s okay.

they’re okay.

they’re older now, braver, not alone anymore, and every morning eliott wakes to lucas tucked at his side, running warm all over. he smells like myrrh and woodsy soap, like christmas itself. sometimes all eliott does is stare, stare at the boy with celestials on his skin and the universe in his eyes, while something flutters inside his ribcage. sometimes, he presses nebulas of his own, etches saturn’s rings and definitions over his skin. adjective, adjective. now, today, he leans on his elbow, watches as lucas stirs and groans. eliott smiles, feels the warmth curling across his chest, rubs lucas’ cheek, says, “merry christmas.”

lucas rolls his eyes, the pattern familiar, sleep-warmed, fond. “not yet, eliott,” he says. (they’ve just returned from yann’s halloween party when eliott, excited, drunk maybe, twirls lucas in his kitchen, yells “merry christmas!” when they kiss, eliott feels the curve of lucas’ smile against his lips.)(the first snow falls at the start of december, and they go outside and watch, lucas holding onto his hand. he does that a lot, eliott doesn’t mind. it’s cold, too cold, lucas wraps his scarf tightly around him. sun glints off of the blue in lucas’ eyes, snowflakes cling onto his eyelashes, eliott smiles— “merry christmas, love.”)

but he’s smiling, and he looks like he always does in the mornings, like fairy lights and pale blues and falling dusks and eliott loves him, he does. he traces a thumb over lucas’ lips. “i’ll make breakfast,” lucas says, stretching, swinging his legs off the bed. he likes to cook for eliott. “i love you.”

the day, despite the slow start, flows on. they do some last minute shopping; lucas buys a few gifts, eliott some drawing supplies. he’s sketching for everyone this year. he’s never had so many people to draw for before. he supposes he has lucas to thank for that as well, like many other things. he lifts his head to watch lucas and a jumble of fairy lights, mind projecting a stream of _i love you’s_ and _thank you’s_ and _i love you’s_. lucas glances over, smiles; eliott hopes he understands.

the day is hectic, and it goes by with lucas by his side. he draws for himself, and for lucas, too, something to hang on the wall, to remember this by, to revisit on the days he forgets to breathe, darkness and her synonyms ebbing on. a promise of hope and sun and shadow.

lucas comes to bed after he does, fatigued and bleary but so full of light. he takes eliott’s hand and talks about the gifts and presents and christmas, and how they’re crossing another first off their list. eliott smiles and listens until lucas’ breathing slows down, evens out, deepens, until he’s sleeping and everything’s quiet and soft, so soft. and the world narrows down to just them, just lucas and eliott, the sun and moon, interlocked.

///

eliott dreams of sun on his skin and lucas. it’s five thity-two in the morning when lucas wakes him up, cold hands clutching at his arm. his heart picks up speed; he wakes up worried, disoriented, vision blurring around the edges. but it’s just lucas, lit up in pale yellow of the bedside lamp, blinking sheepishly down at him.

“what is it?” eliott asks, groggy, words scratching past his throat. panic recedes a bit in his ribcage.

“it’s…umm,” lucas says. his voice is soft, nepenthe. a finger runs through eliott’s hair, sleep still clings onto his eyelids, and lucas breathes, “— it’s christmas.”

eliott smiles. his heart stops, aches, maybe, as he watches the moonlight and her silver wrapped around lucas. outside, the night shifts, morning chirps, dawn a smudge of inky purple over the sky. and there’s snow, hard and soft, blushing pink and beautiful. winter drags on, slow, the atlantic concealed in her shadow, but eliott’s warm. he’s always warm, always home. lucas grins. look, here comes the light. merry christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is, only that i was feeling upto the spirits and came up with it. anyhow, merry christmas folks, happy hanukkah and happy holidays!!


End file.
